


Monsters & Magic

by gingeraleandchocolatecake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, spies au, vampires au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeraleandchocolatecake/pseuds/gingeraleandchocolatecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke in various lives where things could have gone differently (and maybe even well)</p><p>[series of one shots/ two shots]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightcrawlers

(When Octavia says ' _I'm going to tell him'_ on a cold winter evening, Clarke knows she needs to get out of town- immediately. She knows what the concequences are for her, and Octavia, so she pushes her sun blond hair away from her eyes while they watch the star slowly dip behind the trees and she swallows, ' _you know he'll have to kill us, I broke the pact. It's his job._ ' she mutters and the brunette shrugs, ' _We'll split up and go into hiding.'_ So Clarke nods, accepting her friend's decision, and under the cover of night, packs a bag and vanishes into the woods, running as fast as her body takes her. She wishes she could have said goodbye to him, she wishes they could have been together- the world just wasn't ready for them yet. She stands on the edge of a high cliff with the wind streaming through her hair and voices screaming in her head that she's a _monster_. She's annoyed alcohol doesn't affect her. She wants her memories to twist into a haze of drunken incompetence as she stumbles down the street, singing at the top of her voice to some crappy pop song. She wants to forget the sound of his voice and she smell of his skin, she want to forget the feel of his breath against her lips and- _shit, stop it_. So she takes a step forward, right off the side of the earth with her eyes closed and prays that she breaks her neck upon landing. The wind is shoving memories into her head and she remembers his smile, his laugh, the way he ran his fingers through her hair. She remembers her mother who died in sixteen something and her father who killed himself in fifteen something. She remembers when she got bit- that fucking prick of a boyfriend she had thought it would be _funny_. She remembers meeting Raven after two hundred years alone and how happy she was to finally have someone like her. She remembers how she _hated_ killing people and learnt to drink animal blood and she remembers when she started a pack and when people came from across the country in search of asylum and her _help_. The worst thing is that she still remembers him, how she loves him and everything he is and- _fuck_ ; she survives the fall.)

"Are you here to kill me?" She asks with such ease it astounds him.

The desert is vast and wide with dust at her feet and a the sun in the sky, like it's any other day. She pushes the sunglasses higher up her nose and the wind blows her hair in a twist of long blond strands. He stands a good distance from her because _a)_ he doesn't know what she'll do if he gets too close, _b)_ he doesn't know what he'll do if he gets to close and _c)_ he really, really doesn't want to kill her.

"Its my job." he says over the desert wind.

She turns around slowly with her hands in her jacket pocket (How the fuck is she in leather? Not that she doesn't look good.) And she slides her sunglasses into her hair on the top of her head. "What, shooting people?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

"You are not people." he yells, "You are not human, you're already dead."

"And yet I'm here." she shrugs. His car is behind him, with the motor still running like he wanted this to be quick and easy. "I can hear your heartbeat." she adds quietly, "You don't want to do this."

"Screw you, you killed my sister." he shouts back, angrier than before.

"I didn't _kill_ her, I gave her a chance to live." she yells, her eyes twist into a haze of bloodened anger and her teeth tear out of her gum into fangs.

He yanks the gun from his holster and points it at her with a shaking hand and flaring nostrils, " _You_ turned her into a crawler" he breathes "She's not human anymore."

"What because she doesn't breathe? Because she drinks blood instead of wine? Because she runs faster than you, heals faster than you, has black eyes, teeth sharper than a knife and can break a man's neck with her bare hands?" Clarke lists off, the many reasons she's heard her mother say everytime she tried to kill her. "You can't see past your own closed minded _bullshit_ to understand that I _saved_ her? She was dying and I gave her a new life. She has the same memories, the same face, she same smile, she's still... The same _person_."

He stares at her like she's falling to pieces. "She has cold skin, fangs for teeth, a strength beyond comprehension and she sucks the blood out of people until they die. _She doesn't have a pulse_! You turned her into _everything_ I stand against." he lists on his fingers, he's not even angry, he's totally and utterly betrayed.

"So this is revenge?" she asks, taking a step towards him.

He holds the gun up higher and she smirks, holding up her arms, "You are a crawler and you need to be put down."

" _Fuck you_ , you don't chose when to end my life." she snarls, pointing at him angrily.

"You're _five hundred years old_. Your life should have ended centuries ago. You're... You're a _monster_." he breathes, the gun wavering in his hand.

"A monster." she scoffs shaking her head and shrugging, "Too bad you're in love with me."

He doesn't reply but grits his teeth and tightens his fingers around the gun. He tries to pull the trigger, his finger presses harder and harder and his eyes narrow sharper and sharper and, "Fuck you."

"You can't do it." she says, like it's some kind of fact.

" _Fuck you_." he growls louder, wincing against the sun.

She crosses the desert ground, slowly with her hands still in the air and with shoes that scratch at the ash of a desert long forgotten. "Your sister is alive because of me, and in a few weeks she'll be able to manage herself" she explains carefully, "I can help her, I can teach her control. She'll be able to walk into a human population and not even _flinch_."

"But she'll never die." he says bluntly.

She stops a few metres from him with a confused frown that makes her look so fucking beautiful and she cocks her head, "And that's a bad thing?"

The gun shakes in his hand with pure and unfiltered anger, "She is going to watch everyone she cares about, die. Her boyfriend, her brother, her children, her grandchildren, she is going to watch as time picks off the remaining members of her family one by one. And I- _me_ \- the person who raised her since she was a child- I'm never going to get to watch her grow up beyond the age of seventeen." he grits his teeth, "And that is because of _you_."

"Fine then." she smirks, taking another step forward until the barrel of the silver gun is pressed against her forehead. The silver burns into her skin with a sizzling sound that engraves the circular shape on her face. But she doesn't flinch, only smiles perfectly white teeth with fangs that crack as they lower and eyes that curl into a deeper shade of crimson red. "Shoot me." she says, " _Go on_. Kill me." she taunts.

He swallows and her hearing heightens. She can hear the steady beat of his chest that pounds loudly in her ears and she can hear the breath in and out of his nose. His eyes are more magnificent than she ever remembers, like they're a sea of chocolate fudge that dribbles down her lips.

_She fucking loves him._

She smiles softly, like she's lost a part of herself in him and tentatively reaches out. Her fingers stroke his cheek, like she's discovering a new animal for the first time, and she wipes under his eyes to erase any of the small possibilities that he might be weak.

"You're a monster." he repeats through grit teeth with a wavering voice.

"I didn't chose to be this way." she says quietly, her fingers still brushing over the soft skin of his face.

"I wish you weren't." he cries breathlessly.

"I tried to end it." she hesitates, "I tried so many times. I watched my family die, I watched my friends grow old with children that filled their lives with joy whereas I couldn't have any of that. I lost everyone and everything and then I found... _You_." she smiles and he swears his heart fucking stops."I guess it's karma. I fuck up so I get fucked up." she whispers sadly.

"You don't deserve this." he murmurs.

He swallows again and Clarke keeps one hand on his cheek while she slowly raises the other one to wrap around the barrel of the gun. The silver burns her hand but she doesn't care.

She pulls at the gun slowly and his heartbeat quickens, "Give me the gun."

"I can't" he breathes again, frozen on the spot with a stare of fearful shock.

"Is this the bit where I tearfully tell you my last words?" she asks through bitter tears and a small grin.

He chokes and holds the back of his hand against his mouth to stop from crying out, "I think so. Is there a cat you want me to feed or a dog that needs a walk?" he asks.

She gurggles a laugh and swallows through the lump in her throat, "No, but I had a fish once." she nods through the smell of burning flesh, "In 1894. It was a um, ash meadows killfish. Nasty little thing. It'd bite you if you got to close and you'd be dead in minutes. The poison would burn through your organs and you'd end up choking on your own blood."

He stares st her until he smiles, " _God_ , you're old." he blubbers.

"Yeah." she agrees, "I guess I'm out of time." she adds quietly.

She slowl unclasps his fingers from around the gun and carefully pries it from his hand. He watches with tearful eyes and a stubbornity that she so adores as the woman he loves brings the gun that burns through her fingers to her head.

He watches as she holds the gun to her temple and listens to the sizzling skin of a night crawler whose currently standing in the sun with what can only be described as a death wish. The sunglasses balance on her head amidst a mane of blond and she looks at him with fearless eyes as a cold mist suddenly breezes by.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything; _I love you, I'm sorry, stop, you're not a monster._ But before he can mumble a vowel, she pulls the trigger.

_Crack_

There's an echoing _bang_ and the blood splatters across his face as he watches the woman before him, fall to pieces. He stares with wide eyes and his heartbeat wires out of control while she begins to fall to the ground. He lunges forward, his fingers tangling around her torso as he fall to his knees with the love of his life in his arms.

Her head hangs limp like a rag doll as he holds onto her with a death grip. " _Clarke_ " he whispers painfully, his hand on her cheek where the blood drips down his fingers and twist into her hair until it drips off the ends onto the desert floor.

He doesn't say her name again, he knows she can't reply. He just continues to stroke her face with tears that burn his cheek until he can't feel them anymore.

"I'm sorry." he breathes, until he can't hold back and begins to cry out over the dead body of the only woman he ever loved.

The ash and dust on the desert ground molds with the blood that continues to dribble down her temple. She once told him that night crawlers don't have a pulse, but still have a heart. She said that he, however, had a pulse, but no heart; and he told her that he didn't understand.

But as he collapses on the sandy ground with knees that burn against the floor and fingers tangled in blond hair, he realises that she had his heart.

The whole time.

(And so he walks back to his friends with her body swinging in his arms like a low hanging fruit on a tree. There's a look in his eyes as cold as her skin and bitter hate in the tears that stain his cheeks. _Why couldn't they live in harmony?_ His shoes are orange with ash of a never forgotten love when he reaches the camp he and his fellow hunters set up nearby. They all stand outside their tents and trucks with guns strapped to their legs and knives between their digits as they watch him walk through in silence. He places her down on the desert floor with his fingers pushing back the yellow sun hair on her forehead. ' _You did the right thing'_ Kane assures. But Bellamy stares at him with disgust clear in his eyes when he spits back a ' _Fuck you_ '. And then he watches Kane cut off her head with a silver sword that does the job quickly before she can heal from the bullet. Her skull rolls to the side to look straight at him until they throw petrol over her body and Bellamy drops a clump of lit matches over her stomach. Her entire corpse erupts into flames, like a bonfire that fuels his anger as he listens to her bones crack and her flesh rot until he closes his eyes and turns around. He throws his silver gun to the floor and storms away from the cruel ritual and Kane safely assumes that he's quit. The first thing Octavia does when she comes out of hiding, is slap him. _Hard_. And it fucking stings. ' _What, no punch?'_ he sneers with his hand over his cheek and she glares at him like its obvious, ' _I just had my nails done_.' But then she sees his red rimmed eyes and the piles of empty beer bottles strewn around in a drunken stupor of his _own_ creation; and she sighs. ' _What are you going to do now?'_ And so he looks up at the stars that were the same for Clarke when she was born and he smiles softly, ' _I'm going to do what I always have. I'm going to make a better world for you to live in.'_ And then he closes his eyes and dreams of a red eyed blond with a prefect smile and a long white gown, who takes his hand and walks him into the clouds.)


	2. Inter Agency Co-operation (PT.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke turns vengeful and Bellamy tries to bring her back home.  
> (or the one where they're both spies and the criminal underworld affects them a little too much)

**NEW YORK, NEW YORK**

The ballroom is enormous and takes up about the size of two football fields to account for the 600 people on the guest list but the gardens are the most impressive part of the palace. They stretch for what anyone would account as miles with fountains that spurt the clearest water and sunflowers that are taller than anyone in the room.

She finds herself being spun around the dance floor where her red dress sways to the music and her date follows the beat that seems like it was made for him. “What are you doing here?” he asks under his breath, a strained smile still attached to his face.

She smirks, “I could ask you the same thing.” she reminds.

“No you couldn’t.” he reminds, “Not when you’re on foreign territory.”

She shrugs, “I’m here for pleasure, not business.”

He cocks his head, “I didn’t know MI6 gave days off.” he drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes violently with disbelief.

“Maybe you should consider a change of organisation.” she replies softly with an almost sincere smile on her lips.

“The CIA suits me just fine princess.” he reminds.

She hums a noncommittal noise and nods absentmindedly, “Sure Bell.”

He spins her around again, noticing that people are staring- and why wouldn’t they when he’s dancing with someone so dangerously beautiful. It feels like years since he last saw her when in fact it’s only been one and it seems that she’s gotten more good looking since.

Her eyes fling themselves across the room like she’s looking into every crevice of the hall. She’s not being subtle but that’s because he already knows why she’s here and so she can’t be bothered to hide it. “So where’d you get your intel?” he asks as the continue to move across the floor.

She glances at him and titters a laugh, “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being classified.”

He cocks his head, “Come on princess, cooperation and all that.”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, all that.”

He spins her around again and she smiles like she’s having fun, but he knows she’ just buying time and trying to look inconspicuous. Her eyes flickers around the room, glancing from balcony to balcony and couple to couple and then she lingers too long and he knows what she’s found. She begins to step away but he pulls her back, his fingers digging into her hip- because he knows what she’s capable of. 

“You can’t do this alone.” he warns.

She glares at him, “Let go of me Bellamy.”

“I can help.” he assures.

She rolls her eyes, “We’re on different sides.” she reminds.

He pauses, glancing around and licking his lips and he lingers a little too long- and clarke knows he’s found the same thing she has. “All for one and one for none.” he murmurs.

She scoffs, “Something like that.”

He nods, accepting the decision he knew was coming, “See you round princess.”

She smiles, “Maybe.”

And they stop dancing, bow and courtesy as a thanks for the few minutes they spent together and walk away from each other. Both walking a little too fast- clarke hikes up her dress so she doesn’t trip and bellamy loosens his tie like he’s some kind of james bond. ( _ ‘every time you do that it makes me laugh.’  _ she told him once and he rolled his eyes,  _ ‘what about you, i’ve seen you hold your gun sideways like you’re some kind of gangster.’ _ )

Bellamy gets stopped by two security guards, “Sir you’re going to have to come with us.” they say gravely and Bellamy  _ knows  _ clarke’s trying to stall him right now.

He frowns, “There must be some mistake.”

But he’s already attracting enough attention as it is, “No mistake- if you would-” the guard reaches for his arm but Bellamy bats him off.

And this draws gasps from the audience that’s formed around them. Clarke stands by the refreshments table, watching the scene unfold with one eye on the target who seems to have ignored the interaction up until now. The brunette standing by the table with a glass of champagne in her hand and a snake bracelet that goes up her arm- looks over at the scandal. 

Bellamy makes eye contact with her and Lexa’s eyes widen. She carefully places the champagne on the table and turns around, quietly beginning to weave between the crowd in an attempt to escape. Clarke jumps at the opportunity, smirking in Bellamy’s direction and following the brunette through the crowd, well aware of the gun that chafes at her thigh.

Bellamy swears under his breath, twisting one of the guard’s arms behind his back and electrocuting him with his own taser. The other one reaches for his gun but Bellamy kicks it out of his hand and electrocutes him as well. The crowd separates when he runs through, all of them gasping and murmuring under their breaths as he sprints after the blond in the red dress who is definitely way ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy finds Lexa’s body on the roof of the building with the snake bracelet on her arm missing and a gunshot wound to the head.

Clarke is nowhere to be found.

 

* * *

 

**BUDAPEST, HUNGARY**

Bellamy definitely did not expect this.

Four months ago, when he was sent out on a mission to recover an enemy spy with potentially vital information -that had been kidnapped by Mount Weather a terrorist organisation - he did not expect this. Clarke griffin- locked up in a storage container with shackles around her feet and wrists, and even one around her neck- hisses at the bright light she hasn't been exposed to for what seems like ever. 

“Fuck off. ” She spits viciously.

“Well, isn't this a surprise.” He states, mildly shocked but there's a flash of worry in his eyes when he sees how thin she's become.

She grimaces, the shackles clinking as she turn to look at him properly, “Bellamy?” She says slowly, ignoring the shouting voices of the rest of his team outside as they begin clearing away the bodies of the guards they killed. “What are you doing here?” she croaks tiredly.

He swings the machine gun onto his back, and walks further into the container. He’s wearing cargo pants and a plain white shirt that has since been covered in sweat, dirt and grass stains and he kneels down in front of her, “I’m here to take you in princess.” he states, swallowing as he inspect the scars and bruises on her body. “I had no Idea it was you.” he pauses, reaching for the shackles on her wrist and he notices her flinch slightly. He sees the scars on her back and the bruises on her arms and legs and her ribcage protrudes from her chest- fuck she’s been here too long. “If I’d known, I would have come sooner.” he says gravely.

She swallows, watching as he slides the key into the shackles and they drop to the floor, “Are they dead?”she asks, her eyes glance out the container door at the docks she hasn't seen in months.

“Yes.”

She wrinkles her nose, her eyes cold and unfocused as he unlocks the shackles around her ankles. “Good.” She says quietly, not bothering to expand further.

“What happened?” He asks, frowning.

She grits her teeth, “Mount Weather took me when I got too close to Lexa.”

His eyes widen, “That was  _ eight  _ months ago.” He says, terrified at the thought of what she's been through.

She pauses, her eyes clouded with thought, “Was it?” She mumbles absentmindedly.

He swallows, reaching for the chain around her neck and she flinches away from his touch- he pulls back, “Sorry.” he says quickly.

“Just give me the key.” She snaps, holding her hand out.

Two minutes later he watches her limp out, her hand pressing into the metal wall to hold herself up, too stubborn and proud to ask for help but he doesn't help her because he doesn't think she wants to be touched.

She struggles out into the day, the sun searing her eyesight but the fresh air is welcome in the crevices of her body that haven't been exposed to anything for so long. “Are you here as a friend or as CIA?” she asks, watching the waves lap across the ocean and slam into the wall of the dock.

He rubs the sweat above his brow and purses his lips, “If I take you in you'll end up in a cell.”

She nods, crossing her arms, feeling how thin her arms have since become, “Out of sight, out of mind.” she jokes slightly but there's a fear in her eyes at being trapped again.

“You're too weak to fight me.” He points out.

She stiffens, offended by an accusation she knows is true, “Correct.” She agrees reluctantly.

He glances around, noticing his team is busy around the truck and he steps closer to her, “How's your cardio?” He asks.

She turns around, her arms still crossed, “I could still run.”

He looks around, “Gun. Waistband. Your right.” He murmurs.

Her eyes widen slightly, looking up at one of the few people she'll ever trust, suddenly filled with a newfound admiration for him and she stares, “What?” She breathes, “Are you crazy they could kill you.” She hisses in a whisper.

He shrugs, “Rather me than you, you're in no state to defend yourself.”

So she reaches for the gun in the waistband of his jeans and shoot him twice, once in the chest and the other in the arm as she runs backwards away from his falling body.  His team spring into action but she sprints as fast as she can, her weak and tired legs carrying her through the shipyard until they don't know where she is.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy survives just like she knew he would.

No one suspects a thing.

 

* * *

 

**SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA**

Clarke watches the bustling city of ten million move about its day and leans back into the chair, twisting the coffee mug on the garden furniture outside of an inconspicuous cafe that nobody would really expect her to be in.

She takes a sip of her long cold drink and watches carefully as the man with curly dark brown hair makes his way slowly through the crowd. He comes to a standstill and slides into the seat opposite her, waving to the waiter and ordering the same she’s having before sighing and glancing around, scanning the surrounding crowd of people having a relaxed morning coffee.

He looks at her, noticing that she's put some meat back on her body. Her cheeks are no longer hollowed out and her arms are thick enough that he can't see the bone anymore- but her eyes are still cold and broken. “Have you ever heard of the concept of time off?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

“I'll rest when they're dead.” she states, tapping the clay of the mug.

He rubs his eyes, “You'll be dead before they are at this rate.” he reminds.

She shrugs a sigh and rolls her eyes. “Am I here for a lecture Bellamy?” she asks sternly.

Hee narrows his eyes, “I have some information you'll want.”

She purses her lips, “What's the catch?” She asks.

“You take a six month leave from work.” He hesitates to continue when he sees the look on her face. “You need to recover. Go to therapy or something.”

She glares at him “I'm fine.” she snaps.

He shakes his head, “You went through something traumatic, you need time to deal with that.” 

“I  _ have  _ dealt with it.” she hisses and then glances around when she realises she was too loud for her own liking, “I want them to be in pain.” She nods, “That's dealing with it.”

“And MI6 has given you free reign.” he sighs, shaking his head, “They’re taking advantage of your rage.” he pauses, a worried frown on his face, “You know that right?”

She shrugs, “At the moment our interests align.”

“And when they don’t?” he asks.

She wrinkles her nose, “Why am I here Bellamy?” she asks again.

He purses his lip, considering whether or not to tell her what he knows. On one hand, he hopes she’s angry enough that she’ll listen to his demands, and on the other, he knows she won’t. “We found Cage Wallace.”

She doesn’t react, but he notices her shoulders stiffen. She avoids his eyes, probably trying not to let the rage she holds for him escape her body. Cage Wallace, otherwise known as the painmaker is Ark’s greatest interrogator, one Clarke had been stuck with for eight months until her body was ripped apart and her will was trampled into the ground. “Where is he?” she demands gravely.

He shakes his head, “Six Months.” 

“Fuck you.” she hisses, standing to her feet, “You don’t get to do that to me.” she says, gritting her teeth when her eyes glisten with tears he knows she hasn’t cried since she was rescued.

He grabs her arm to hold her in place but she slaps him off, a vicious look in her eyes, “Please.” he says carefully, “Take care of yourself.”

She sneers, sliding the sunglasses over her eyes to avoid the Seoul heat and turns around walking away from him. He sees the outline of the scars on her back, hidden by her hair and the fabric of her shirt and he prays she’ll listen to him because one of these days the vengeance she holds so dear is going to drive her insane.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t take any time off.

Bellamy isn’t happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be a part two! i hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know x


	3. Inter Agency Co-Operation (PT.2)

**BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA**

Bellamy hears about a massacre on Argentinian soil where thirty men and women of Mount Weather were killed. He hears rumours that some were beaten so viciously to death that there was no way it could have been a _ person  _ who caused that much damage. He hears about the restaurant they were in being painted red from ceiling to floor with the blood that was ripped out of their bodies. He hears about limbs thrown across the room and the pain they must have been in communicated through the screams that were heard for multiple hours. He hears about the violence, the carnage, the pure rage in this act, that whoever did this must be sick in the head.

He hears about a blond woman who was seen entering, there was nothing particularly special about her, she's wasn't loud or rude, she was pretty but not too memorable.

But she was the only one who left alive.

So Bellamy finds himself standing in the middle of her hotel room with a gun pointed to her forehead as she raises an eyebrow and takes off her coat, “Hello Bellamy.” She says calmly, sliding off her shoes and ignoring the fact that he's holding a gun to her head, “Would you like a coffee?” She asks, looking at him expectantly but he only narrows his eyes.

“I want answers.” he states.

She wags her finger, “After coffee.” she assures, opening a cupboard in the small hotel room and pulling out a mug.

Clarke doesn’t flinch at the bullet that Bellamy squeezes out of his gun as it shatters the mug before her until she’s only holding the handle, “We talk now.” he snaps.

She rolls her eyes, drops the handle to the floor with the rest of the mug and crosses her arms, “That was unnecessary.”

“So were the thirty bodies you massacred for the sake of information I wouldn’t give you.” he reminds.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and purses her lips, “That would make it your fault wouldn’t it? I mean, all you had to do was tell me where Wallace was.”

He glares at her, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ put this on me.”

She cocks her head, “Afraid to accept responsibility?”

“ _ You  _ killed them.” He reminds gravely.

She waves him off, “They had it coming.”

He shakes his head but the gun doesn't move an inch, “Who  _ are  _ you?” He demands loudly. “This isn't you.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Don't act like you know me.” she hisses angrily.

He lowers the gun until it hangs limp by his side, a frown etched across his face as he watches her closely. She feels like he’s looking into her head, trying to understand what the fuck is going on before he shakes his head with a scoff, “Don’t act like I don’t.” he warns in a gravely voice.

She wrinkles her nose, looking away and crosses her arms, “Why are you here?”

He looks down at the gun he can see poking out from under her shirt, tucked into her jeans and he frowns.  _ Because you're a friend? Because you're important? because-  _ “Because I can't lose you. Not to this.” He shakes his head.

She swallows-  _ hard _ , “Not to what?”

He waves his hand, “ _ This _ !” He cries, “Crazy town, population  _ one _ .” He assures and she grits her teeth.

“Go home Bellamy.” She says, waving a hand dismissively, “I'm sure there's a politician who needs protecting from human rights activists or something.”

He doesn’t move for a little bit, deciding his next plan of action. He swallows, “Cage Wallace made a deal with MI6 about an hour ago.” he says carefully, watching the anger well in her eyes, “He heard about Argentina and turned himself in.” she’s angry, so, so, angry her whole body is shaking, “He’s under their protection and your handler is going to call you in a few minutes to tell you to  _ stand down. _ ”

She swallows, trying not to cry but she’s so angry she can only see red. She wants him to die, to pay for everything he’s done to her- how  _ dare  _ he get away with destroying her mind? She takes a slow, shaky breath and looks away, “MI6 turned on me.” she says quietly.

He looks sad, “MI6 were never on your side.”

“They were all I had because I  _ certainly  _ didn’t have you.” she snaps back, sucking in a sharp breath and reaching out to wrap her hand around a chair to keep her balance. He wants to reach out to hold her up, to tell her that he’s here now and that she needs to  _ stop  _ but she’ll just ignore him and maybe even shoot him. “That’s it.” she shrugs, “He gets away with it and I get tossed aside.” she looks like she’s been broken into a thousand pieces, like she’s crumbling to the floor, “He does this to me and he never pays and I just have to live with it?” she almost yells.

And there’s only one thing Bellamy knows will make her feel better. He swallows, crossing his arms, pretending that he doesn’t see her falling apart because then she’ll get  _ really  _ annoyed. “He made a deal with MI6. Not the CIA.” he mentions.

She pauses, turning to look at him like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. He would do that? For her, he would do that? She straightens slowly, swallowing and opens her mouth- but no words come out for a while, she still doesn’t know what to say. “I can’t ask-”

“You’re not.” he interrupts calmly.

She shakes her head, “MI6 will come after you and-”

“You’ll protect me.” he assures.

She just stares at him. “You’re insane.” she says, shaking her head again.

He scoffs, “Oh hey pot, this is kettle, you seem be a bit of hypocrite.” 

“I’m serious.” she assures, “MI6 will come after you.”

“Not if i’m under your protection.” he reminds. She sighs, running her fingers through her hair and looking away because she doesn’t know what to say- he’s already made up his mind. “The CIA still want him dead.” he says passingly, “And he’ll turn on MI6 the moment he realises you can’t do anything anymore.”

She swallows, “He’ll kill you.”

Bellamy chuckles, “Have you any faith?” he asks sarcastically.

The look she’s giving him is one of confusion and appreciation and also fear because this could go incredibly wrong. She wants to kiss him- but she knows that he won’t believe what she means by it because of the state she’s in. She shakes her head, “You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

He holsters the gun and shakes his head, “I’ll see you around princess.”

And with that, he walks out of her apartment.

 

* * *

 

A year goes by and she thinks he’s forgotten about her; going to therapy every week, grocery shopping and feeding the ducks by the river thames. She thinks he’s abandoned her like all the others did.

But then Wallace’s body washes up on the shores of Cambodia and she smiles.

 

* * *

 

 

**LONDON, ENGLAND**

He finds her sitting on her front porch, reading the newspaper with a cup of tea on the marble steps next to her and the tattoo on her shoulder finally exposed to the world. He’s always wondered what it was and now he sees the small dandilion and almost laughs because he  _ never  _ thought she’d ever have one like that.

“Morning princess.” he says nonchalantly, leaning against the stone pillar of her south kensington home.

She looks up from her newspaper, only mild- hidden-surprise in her eyes. She fold the print up, placing it by her side and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing a little bit and taking the sight of him in. he looks tired, worn out and like he hasn’t had a proper meal in months. “When d’you get in?” she asks curiously.

She can see the cuts and bruises barely healed when he stands in the light and he shrugs, “This morning.” he cocks his head, “You were my first stop.”

His features catch in the rare sunlight of london and her breath almost catches in her throat. Is this really happening? Are they really..  _ Free?  _ Everything feels too soft and calm and unperturbed to be true, she’s just waiting for everything to come crashing down around her. “You look like shit.” she comments.

He scoffs a laugh and looks at her between his lashes, “ _ You  _ look better.” he states, nodding to himself slightly.

Her lips tug upwards and she cocks her head a little, “You’ve been gone a while.” she comments.

He nods in agreement, “That I have.”

She licks her lips, her body suddenly changing demeanour and she coughs quickly, “Thank you for…”

“Don’t thank me.” he says in a voice that suggests there was really no argument to him doing this- like it was his duty or something.

She coughs quickly, shaking the conversation off and crosses one leg over the other. She leans back on the balls of her hand, “Now, what’s this I hear about a girlfriend?” she asks curiously, her eyes slightly wide and trying to move onto a lighter topic.

He smirks, “What, you jealous?”

The blond shakes her head, “Nah she’s got nothing on me.”

“Well, she’s smart.” he points out.

She scoffs, “ _ i’m  _ smart.”

“She’s beautiful.” he adds.

She coughs, “Excuse me.” she says in a tone that clearly indicates she thinks the same of herself.

He pauses, scratching his chin, “She’s killed more people than I have and that's… kinda hot.” he remarks.

She tries not to smile, “Bet she’s never killed a president.”

He holds up his fingers, “Two.”

She feigns surprise, “That’s one less than me.” 

He narrows his eyes slightly, “You said Ecuador wasn’t you.” because really, she assures him year after year that she had nothing to do with Ecuador.

“It wasn’t.” she assures, “Japan was though.”

He stares, “Japan was a natural death.” he recites carefully.

She just smirks, “You’re cute.”

He almost laughs, “I knew there was a reason I came here first.” he assures.

She swallows again, avoiding his eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. This particular road of south kensington remains quiet apart from the occasional car that tries to navigate through the narrow street. That means she noticed the car that arrived earlier, parked at the end of her road, the one no-one go out of. “Black mercedes, your three o’clock.” she points out.

He doesn’t even turn around, “By the parking meter, don’t worry I clocked it straight off.”

She purses her lips, “I told you they’d be after y-”

“They’re not.” he points out. “They’re sat, waiting to see if i’m under your protection.”

She sighs, tossing the newspaper aside and stands to her feet, “You have too much faith in me.” she points out sadly.

He just smiles and steps onto the landing, toe to toe with her, finally after a year, “As do you in me.” he reminds.

She swallows, “I don’t have faith in you. You have faith in something you can’t see, something that requires a leap in reality.” she can feel his heartbeat even if she’s not against his chest and her fingers are shaking. She shakes her head, “I don’t have faith in you, I trust you.”

“Just trust huh?” he asks carefully.

She smirks and then they’re kissing- on her front porch in the middle of london, watched by two MI6 agents who are now quickly realising that there’s nothing they can do to Agent Blake because he’s under Clarke Griffin’s protection. Her heartbeat is echoing in her head and her heart is beating faster than she expected when his fingers tangle in her hair.

They break apart, a hand cups her face and she smiles at the warmth from his palm, “Would you like to come in?” she asks, gesturing to her front door.

He smiles as well, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

* * *

 

 

The car leaves straight after and they never see it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu with those comments and let me knows if you liked it x

**Author's Note:**

> LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!  
> (You know, if you want)


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